


The Party

by CelestialHeavens1



Series: Of Spies and Conmen [13]
Category: Covert Affairs, NCIS
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Assassins & Hitmen, Episode: s05e04 Identity Crisis, Gen, Pre-NCIS, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 07:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15480975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialHeavens1/pseuds/CelestialHeavens1
Summary: Tony and Simon Fischer go to deal a dirty politician at an embassy party, pre-NCIS. Not necessary to have read the rest of the series or Life and Lies of Conmen and Spies.





	The Party

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the NCIS episode where Tony said that he was at an embassy party once where a man accessed it with a t-shirt that said liquor store and asked if "anyone order any vodka?"
> 
> It's not necessary to have read the rest of the series. Just know that Tony works for the CIA and that Simon Fischer is an FSB agent from Covert Affairs.

“I look ridiculous,” Tony hissed as he tugged at the t-shirt. Twenty dollars had gotten them the shirt and the bottle of the vodka, generously gift wrapped in a brown paper bag, along with convincing the delivery boy that he had delivered the bottle to the embassy, no questions asked. For an extra five, the kid had promised to forget about them. 

“You look fine,” the Russian soothed, plopping a baseball cap on Tony’s head. 

“You’re sure about this information?”

“Positive.”

“Is this even legal?” 

Simon shrugged. “The embassy is considered foreign soil. Your Agency is only allowed to operate on foreign soil. Therefore, I see no problem with this, so long as your fingerprints don’t get on everything.”

Tony huffed. One of the agricultural attachés at the Hungarian embassy had been smuggling out millions of dollars worth of US intelligence and selling it to the highest bidder. Wet work wasn’t exactly his specialty, but between him and Simon, the two of them did a pretty good job of it. 

The FSB Agent shouldn’t have been involved, but he had been the one to catch the leak at the other end. Tony, in turn, had presented the intel to Arthur and convinced the man to let him be the one to handle it. The Agency had turned around and told him to plug the leak... that was if they sanctioned this kind of thing on the books. Which they didn’t and so Tony was forced to turn back to his friend and have him help deal with things the way only a KGB trained spy could.

Tony pulled the hat down farther to keep from being recognized. The last thing he needed was some camera catching his picture. He stumbled up to the gate, to the armed officers there and held up the bag. 

“Anyone order any vodka?”

The two guards closest eyed each other. “Sir, you need to step back.”

“Sorry man. I just, my pops’ liquor store got a call about someone at this embassy, Imre Balsai,” he said, butchering the name as badly as he could, “ordering some vodka.” 

“You will wait here.” The one guard stepped into the gate house.

Tony glanced past the remaining guard through the gates. “Some fancy shindig ya’ll are having. I don’t want to be any trouble now, but I can’t just give you this. I have to see the guy I’m supposed to give it to, check his ID. Which is pretty silly, I think, but rules are the rules and my pops could lose his liquor license if we accidentally sold it to a minor.”

The remaining guard nodded and motioned to the first. The gates opened and the guard led him in. 

Imre Balsai was a short, plump, and balding man of about forty. His tux strained over his stomach and his glasses only served to make him look like a weasel. The man showed Tony his ID, a Hungarian passport, and Tony gave him the bottle and accepted the money and the tip. 

Tony forced himself to walk slowly and carefree back out to the street. Any minute, there would be shouts coming from inside the embassy and the guards would close the gates and arrest him.

But he didn’t have to worry. The man saved the bottle until he got home that night and drank the entire bottle by himself.

The next day, the morning paper read about Balsai’s heart attack. A sad thing in an alcoholic, but not incredibly surprising. No one checked for the poison used, the thallium that disappeared in his vodka. In fact, no one even checked that he was murdered. The whole affair was swept under the rug and they were in the clear.


End file.
